The Education of Francine Robinsworth Duchesney, A Summer Abroad: MRS DUCHESNEY MYSTERIES

By Peggy Kopman-Owens

Cover Art © Roger Kopman. An early history of Paris Sleuths Extraordinaire, Mrs. Duchesney and Louis Bertrand. "Whatever the unknown in Europe," young Francine Robinsworth Duchesney told her parents at supper, "it has to be better than the known in a small town, where truth is hidden behind smiles, pleasantries, and an over abundance of stretch lace at weddings." On an old borrowed map hidden beneath her bed, Francine Robinsworth Duchesney had scribbled in bright blue "the other side of the world." Born with exceptional curiosity in a small town jam-packed with well-preserved century-old mysteries, where idle indiscretions lined cellars and attics like jars of last year's apricots, she found no lie was so well constructed, no secret so well kept, no treasure so deeply buried, that she could not discover and reveal it to an uneasy audience. So, when this youngest of eight Duchesney children receives an unexpected invitation to go abroad, most of her neighbors are relieved to see the annoyingly little amateur sleuth go. Europe will teach Francine how easily a young woman's mind and heart can be swayed by a dangerously vivid imagination and the unprecedented eagerness of intriguing men. In Switzerland, one man will ask her to stay "a while." In Paris, another will invite her to stay "forever." Only one will change her destiny forever with a small token, a mystery, and a priceless souvenir of A Summer Abroad. Later, she would write in her diary, "Whatever the truth is about my own life, it's still waiting somewhere else on a blank page in a place where people make no attempt to predict the future based upon a person's past."

• Language: English
• Publisher: PKOBOOKS LLC
• Release date: Mar 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215591529

Peggy Kopman-Owens

Peggy Kopman-Owens writes suspenseful fiction, gentle mysteries with touches of romance that inspire readers to search for their passports. Her literary properties, reflecting her work in 35 countries, include three series set in Paris. SIMON PENNINGTON MYSTERIES, MRS. DUCHESNEY MYSTERIES, and SEVEN PARIS MYSTERIES now available in eBook, paperback, hardcover, and / or audiobook. (author's photo: © Michael D. Owens)  Cover Art © Roger Kopman. Online gallery at KOPMANPHOTOS.com "My mother wrote stories and songs, becoming my inspiration, teaching that passion and patience are inseparable partners. From my father and mother, both musicians who loved to travel, I learned to embrace a world full of diversity and endless possibilities. I can never thank them enough for bestowing this lovingly unselfish gift of intellectual freedom."

Book preview

Chapter 1

The mail carrier handed her the envelope and a pen. She, of course, believing it to be a mistake, stared at her name on the envelope in disbelief, but there it was, plain as day.

Miss Francine Robinsworth Duchesney

It had been handwritten in perfectly formed letters on the envelope for everyone to see. The mail carrier, whose life she had made miserable for years, commented favorably on his delivery. It would be the first kind thing he had ever said to her.

From the university? he remarked, cheerfully. Congratulations. Looks like someone will be going away.

It seemed to Francine that he was a little too cheerful about that prospect. On this, she would be correct.

Thank you, she said, taking the envelope to touch the embossed university emblem, but not to open it. He waited, anxious to hear the news. This youngest of the Duchesney children had made him nervous for years. On this notable day, there was a good chance that the little burr under his saddle would be going away, and if he were even luckier, it would be sooner, rather than later. As Francine seemed in no hurry to ease his impatient curiosity, he stood for a while longer, making idle chitchat with Francine’s Father in hopes of hearing the letter being read aloud.

In a few moments, Francine would deny everyone this pleasure by taking the letter inside to read in private. Its message was meant for her eyes only, and if the news was bad, she did not want witnesses to her disappointment. The mail carrier was known to share news up and down the road, as his delivery method for sharing idle gossip was nearly as popular as the telephone party line.

Mrs. So-and-so got a post card from her sister in Minneapolis.

Mr. so-and-so got a notice from the bank about his farm.

The Abernathy kids got terrible grades this semester.

How do I know?

Well, their grade cards fell out of the envelope, of course.

Yes. The teacher should have put more spittle on the glue.

As much as the curmudgeon side of Francine’s personality embraced the half-empty glass, reality was about to prove her glass, this time, was half-full. Even in the darkest moment of this past year’s embarrassing scandal, when half the town had wanted her locked in her room until graduation, her family had stood steadfastly by her side, often silently, but by her side.

Consequences of her bad judgment had not improved natural melancholy, a genetic legacy from her Mother’s mother. As Mother would say, God help her. It’s not the girl’s fault she’s like that. Just the luck of the draw.

Uncle Angus would say, One in every litter. People would nod in agreement, as the Duchesney’s neighbor Angus McFee was a well-respected veterinarian. Who better to know such things than a medical man?

However, on this fateful day, the luck of the last of the Duchesney’s litter could no longer be denied. Her family was about to bear witness to the very moment that would change Francine’s life forever. It was all inside an official looking envelope that held the coveted invitation to the state university’s A Summer Abroad program. This meant, also, acceptance into the September freshman class was virtually assured.

The legal size envelope with the embossed emblem in the upper left-hand corner had been delivered without question to the youngest member of the Duchesney household. Her legitimate claim to it had already been publicly discussed up and down the road to her family’s farm. It would have been impossible for anyone to ignore the registered mail sticker displayed on the back, which protruded out of the mail carrier’s breast pocket. The bright red RSVP, stamped clearly on the bottom left hand corner of the envelope, would demand Francine’s action; so, too, the receipt on the mailman’s clipboard. He handed her his pen and with trembling hand, Francine signed for the delivery, something that she had never before done. This simple act came as an epiphany on an already propitious occasion. Here in black and white was the proof of it - signing for official letters. Soon, the world would have to recognize her for what she was. An adult!

To everyone’s disappointment, Francine ran inside the house, clutching the letter against her chest. Once inside, she gently tore open the envelope, taking care to keep the front undamaged for her scrapbook. Her hands shook even more as she unfolded the one page document, barely believing her eyes. In bright green letters across the bottom of the letter had been stamped the official word ACCEPTED. She read and re-read the letter, nearly snapping it in two by holding it so taunt. Ebenezer and Toby wrapped themselves around her ankles, and so, she bent down and petted the two old cats, explaining to them that with one word, all her sins of the past 17 years had been erased. She was no worse than whoever had rubber-stamped her request ACCEPTED.

Welcome to A Summer Abroad

Students: Please familiarize yourselves with the tour itinerary. Learning ahead of time about the destinations you will be visiting will greatly enhance your travel experience.

Itinerary:

London, England

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Cologne, Germany

Heidelberg, Germany

Strasbourg, France

Lucerne, Switzerland

Milan, Italy

Genoa, Italy

Florence, Italy

Rome, Italy

Bologna, Italy

Venice, Italy

Salzburg, Austria

Vienna, Austria

Prague, Czech Republic

Munich, Germany

Nancy, France

Paris, France

The Fine Print:

Please ensure that you have read the Rules before signing and returning your application,

along with your final payment.

.

Had there been collusion? No, but behind the scenes there had been a bit of deception - hers and a yet-to-be- named office clerk, who unbeknownst to Francine had worked secretly in tandem to achieve a similar goal. What Francine did not know was that the university needed students for the Fall semester, but even more specifically, it needed their parents’ money. The university’s freshman enrollment coffers had gotten too low to sustain the large teaching and office staff. While her application had arrived late, all requests for enrollment that did not indicate a need for financial assistance were being placed in the A candidates pile. Her request to participate in the summer semester abroad represented a win-win for the clerk whose job rested in the balance. If he could not find enough well heeled applicants to fill out the freshman roster, his job along with others would be cut from next year’s budget.

The A Summer Abroad program was conceived as nothing more than a pipeline between the university’s creditors and the bank accounts of hopeful parents. As such, the questionable scheme involving Francine and hundreds of other potential students had begun in a benign manner with official-looking envelopes containing formal invitations. For Francine, this would become the most important piece of paper she would ever touch. That she had gotten this far on her own, applying for college without telling anyone, was a bit of a miracle in itself. The invitation was proof of a very brave leap of faith, indeed, after retrieving nothing more than a piece of trash out of a school wastebasket.

A few days before spring break, her geography teacher had posted a brochure on the bulletin board outside of his classroom. On the front was displayed a stunningly beautiful photograph of a sunny European beach, where bikini-clad girls and handsome boys frolicked. The advertisement read:

Enjoy an educational summer in Europe!

The posting lasted all of an hour before the principal tore it down, having found the near-nudity on the cover morally offensive. From her spot tucked neatly behind open locker doors, Francine had overheard the principal berating her favorite teacher Mr. Dutta about the posting and she could not imagine why. After rescuing the condemned material from his wastebasket, Francine hid the coveted treasure in her notebook to be read later. If the narrow mindedness principal thought the brochure objectionable, Francine imagined that the piece of paper had to be made of pure gold. Mr. Dutta, a dignified and scholarly man, was incapable of being morally offensive, so the onus fell upon the principal to explain this outrageous tirade. He had been the one, foolish enough to marry the self-righteous, brow beating PTA president, who probably didn’t own a bathing suit.

After examining the brochure cover-to-cover, Francine found nothing provocative or offensive about the offer to further her education. She had seen more skin in last month’s National Geographic in the school’s library. What, Mr. Dutta was encouraging his students to consider, was a cultural opportunity that most could enjoy only in their dreams and a few lucky ones might afford. What the brochure described was provocative, not in the way that the principal insinuated with his closed mind, but in ways that enticed students to open theirs, offering a chance to visit foreign countries where they would be introduced to art, architecture, music and other international students. Francine found this possibility positively intoxicating. To envision a summer traveling around Europe was heady stuff, indeed.

What was more incredible was the prospect of being rewarded with college credit for doing nothing more than writing about it later. Those students who did so and achieved a grade of B or better on their papers would be assured a place in the freshman class! There was no mention as to how their tuition would be paid. The brochure was just the hook, leaving the job of reeling in the big ones to the university registrar. Apparently, none of Francine’s classmates had seen the offer before it became trash because later, when she would call the registrar’s office, she would be told that hers was the only application submitted from her high school. He would fail to add, ...that did not request financial aid.

The prized last slot on the tour’s roster was hers alone to claim! The letter had said explicitly only one position left open. In her innocence and ignorance, Francine assumed that the university would not lie about something so important, unaware that an experienced public relations agency would. The next line would put the pressure on Francine. Respond IMMEDIATELY, if you wish to have your name added to the roster. The third line would drive the message home. Include deposit with reply. A phone number on the bottom of the letter was provided for any recipient, who might have a question about where or how to send the money.

Send money? How could this have happened? Deposit? She had not told her parents that she had applied or been accepted, but the university was already asking for money. Why had she not thought of this before now? Well... for one thing, she had not thought that her application would have a hope or a prayer of being accepted. With her grades, it would take luck to graduate high school this year. The idea of going to college was beyond her academic ability and her imagination, as no one in her family had ever gone, and so for her, it would be financially out of the question.

Discussions around the dinner table focused on her finding a job before graduation, as the competition for any in this small town was keen. How was she to tell her parents that instead of earning money this summer, she would need to spend a considerable amount that they did not have? This seemed an insurmountable hurdle, yet... her dream, along with the university was waiting for an answer.

Her application had arrived on the university clerk’s desk at precisely the moment, when (without the proper number of enrollees) a contract was precariously being threatened with cancellation. The summer program was minutes away from ending abruptly, a circumstance that would rob the university of revenue and bring the travel agency a step closer to bankruptcy. Both were scrambling to prevent this from happening, placing the potential blame for both disasters squarely on the shoulders of a junior desk clerk tasked with finding one more person to fill out the waiting program roster. That part of the letter had been correct.

Because Francine’s application was one that did not indicate a need for financial aid (because she had no real intention of going to college, and so, had sped past the fine print), this frazzled bean counter immediately used her application to close out his paperwork. His choice had nothing to do with who Francine was and everything to do with where he found her application. There it lay, right on the top of the A stack. Luck. It was pure luck. From that day forth, Francine Robinsworth Duchesney could never say that she was not a lucky woman. A lowly desk clerk had changed her destiny in one fell swoop. His job was done and the summer program was saved. His precarious position with the university was safe for another school year. Next year, he would be expected to perform the same miraculous feat, but with someone else’s dream in the balance. Francine was this year’s winner.

The registrar would be quite happy as well, as a student not requesting money translated into a student with money. Tap. Tap. Tap. With the speed of a key on a typewriter, the name Duchesney was lifted from the ranks of the great unwashed to be included among the exclusive list of blue-blooded families, who could expect to be routinely spigot’ed for endowment funds. From this impressive list came names for future dormitories, lecture halls, and football fields. The list with Francine’s name included went directly into an envelope marked for the Chancellor’s eyes only and out to the side of the Duchesney name had been scrawled the words new potential donor.

The decision had been made in less than five minutes, a decision that would change Francine’s life forever. The university was delighted to invite her. Yet, the words would perpetuate a lie so grand as to be ridiculously funny. Potential donor? The humor of it would not be revealed to anyone, but an aging administrator who would take it quite seriously. A proper audience for the joke would not be forthcoming for nearly two decades, not until a Paris sleuth would stumble across the archived list, while solving an unrelated mystery at the university. Life has an odd way of circling around to include all past sins.

For now, however, in her 17th year of life, Francine worried very little about the truth of this deed coming out. Her parents’ excitement at the good news, that one of their children might become the first in the family to attend college, overshadowed the bad news that it might be only for one summer. Francine decided to let them enjoy their surprise and good fortune, before telling them that it would cost a fortune... money that she knew they did not have. Her secret would lay buried in a stack of papers on the Chancellor’s desk for the rest of the Spring and most of the Summer. For someone this young, this was about as far as mind or eye could travel. Francine was herself a bit overwhelmed at the changes one letter could bring. She had witnessed it firsthand. Her glass really was half-full! Until she came back from Europe at the end of summer, no one at the university would be any wiser to the fact; tuition was out of the question for a young woman like her.

While any one of her brothers or sisters was smart enough to pass the college entrance exam, she was not. They had not attempted it because when they attended high school it was not required, and with so many mouths to feed and a farm to operate, there simply wasn’t enough money for college. As a senior, she had been required to take the test because of a new state law, but her grades and the test results were dismal indicators of her college potential. Life was full of these little ironies. Because there had never been a need, there had never been a savings account set up for college. The Duchesneys were practical people. Dowries for daughters? Yes. Marriage was an expectation for both sons and daughters, but a higher education? No. Twelve years was enough for anyone. A man with a good head could make money without a college degree and a woman, who married well, only needed to know how to keep a man happy. (Father’s words, not Mother’s.)

Little did she know, students with names on the potential endowment list were granted a free pass, a special exemption from restrictions as pedestrian as a low grade point. Potential donors, even those with a little academic performance problem, were too important to ignore. To pass them and their bank accounts along to other colleges and Chancellors, who would be delighted to get their greedy hands on donors, would be unthinkable! Francine would have been shocked to learn that her file was already being assembled for Fall admission and her classes chosen for her.

In her blissful ignorance, she began treating the summer abroad application as nothing more than a request to attend summer camp. Nothing too serious could result from signing for a letter, could it? After all, she had already accomplished the hard part, getting her name on the roster. At night, when worries crept into her bedroom and grew large on the ceiling, she would wonder if her acceptance under false pretenses was nothing more than the end justifying the means, just as her Minister had spouted in his sermon on Thou Shalt Not Lie. In his first sentence or two, he had not made this particular commandment sound like one of the greater sins. No, he had made lying seem more like a less-Christian way of handling life’s problems, but not something that could lead a person down the slippery slope to that place no one wanted to go. He had not punctuated the sermon with his usual fire and brimstone. In fact, he had said in a near hush, Everyone tells little white lies.

Francine was an everyone, wasn’t she? Yes, there, from the lips of a man who knew from where he spoke. Her Minister practically had blessed the practice. Maybe what she had done, applying for college under false pretenses, was a little greyer than the usual white lie, but it still was not a horrible lie – the kind that could send a person down that path of damnation permanently. Her lie was only a little one... with a relatively short shelf life. Most lies in this small town were so well preserved that they could sit in a fruit cellar for centuries and still smell fresh when retold. This one, if everything went according to her plan, would last all of one summer. How bad could that be?

The following Sunday, she became so lost in her own thoughts of A Summer Abroad, that she missed the last half of the Minister’s sermon. She was wondering what he told his wife about his frequent visits to the Duchesney’s neighbor. If a person wanted to be completely honest about telling lies, submitting an application for the university’s summer program wasn’t actually a lie at all. OK, sure, there had been some stretching of the truth - but it wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to college or that she would refuse if the miracle occurred. That it was never going to happen didn’t mean her intentions were not good. If the university was foolish enough to offer someone like her this chance, she was going to be smart enough to accept. At this point in her life, she would have jumped at any chance to travel. If it had been a one-way ticket for a freight train and that freight train could jump across that great Atlantic pond, she would have been onboard. This was a dream come true. She would not let it slip away.

Then, her mind wandered back to the Minister and the commandment: Thou Shalt Not Lie. He couldn’t seem to get off of the subject this month and Francine wondered if the idea of hopping a freight train out of town had ever crossed his mind. For a girl, who had spent most of her childhood viewing the world from her narrow bedroom window, anywhere was somewhere. Having never been out of the county in which she was born, and then, suddenly, to be handed the world on a silver platter? Well, this was too irresistible. So, yes, she had embellished a little on her application, but across the Atlantic seaboard was where her library card had taken her imagination for ten years of unassigned summer reading. How could she not follow her heart’s desire? The Minister did.

Books had convinced her. Only the very best mysteries took place in Europe; ones with interesting people with interesting names doing all manner of interesting things. She wanted desperately to be one of them. These exotic-sounding cities were more than mere places on a map. These were places where real people lived and some had never heard of her small town. Rudy was already there waiting for her to join him.

When Francine called the travel agency to reserve her flight, she was asked a question that she was not prepared to answer. Without thinking twice, she answered, One-way.

Chapter 2

By April 1, the scandal had run its course sort of...

By May 1, the oldest version of the story had been told and retold enough times to bore even its most ardent listener. Everyone was duly eager for a fresh catastrophe, something different to take the town gossips into summer. Their tune sung, during what had been an exceptionally long cold winter, was taken up in the spring as a loud chorus of an all too familiar refrain. The sooner that girl leaves town the better.

Francine could not have agreed more.

By June 1, she would be seated on an airplane filled with strangers all bound for Europe. Below, the world would fall away beneath the clouds and she would be lifted up to the Heavens by unexpected angels wearing wings on their uniforms, who called her Madame. She would learn they were called flight attendants.

She went where?

The airport.

Well, why did she go there?

Going overseas. Europe I hear.

Where did she get a fool notion like that? The girl’s got no business going someplace she doesn’t know anybody.

Got the idea in her head that she’s going to college over there.

Over there? What’s wrong with the education she got here?

She’s never going to do anything with any kind of education she gets here or there. If you ask me the girl needs a job.

The town, waiting for the next big scandal, enjoyed the crumbs of Francine’s big leap across the pond that June. No one could see the point of her going, although, they all looked forward to her going. Talking about her ridiculous dreams had filled up otherwise dead spaces in their idle conversations. Did you hear about the Duchesney girl? could open up another half-hour of discussion. It also assured them that they were safe for the summer from that Duchesney girl’s habit of spying on them. Born with an exceptional curiosity, in a small town jam-packed with well-preserved century-old mysteries, where indiscretions lined cellars and attics like jars of last year’s apricots, she found no lie was so well constructed, no secret so well kept, no treasure so deeply buried that she could not discover it.

You know the rest of the Duchesneys are a fine bunch of people.

Yes. I know.

She was the last of the litter, right?

As far as I know. Of course, you know about her mother don’t you?

No. What?

She was a twinner.

Oh. So you’re saying...

I’m just saying that there might be another one at home that we don’t know about, another that might look just like Francine.

Oh, God, don’t say that!

It was her very first flight ever and she was far too excited to sleep. The magic of being on an airplane flying along at 550 miles an hour above the Earth granted her the unexpected gift of a new perspective on life. Compared to the millions of people 35,000 feet below, she was nothing more than a tiny speck in the sky and most likely insignificant to their lives – almost insignificant to her own. What did any of her worries down there matter up here? Although, she imagined that there were still a few people down there, worrying about her up here. There were probably a few more still talking about her decision to go. Mother told her that word had gotten out that she was leaving town, but refused to repeat what she had overheard at the grocery store. It would do Francine no good to know what others thought. Mother was still trying to put the hurt behind her.

Any chance she won’t come back?

The girl made me nervous what with all her questions.

It would be a relief to me, if she’d stay over there.

I was just thinking the same thing.

Amen to that.

Mother did not have to tell her what others were saying. She had ears and a long history of overhearing others, but here, she was completely free of them and of her past. Some of those other little specks on the ground were not aware she had broken away from Earth’s gravity. The mail carrier was not finished with today’s deliveries, so there had to be one or two, who did not know Francine Duchesney had left town. By the time that her plane landed and he had finished his route, they would all know.

She had never experienced anything like this feeling of total freedom. With it came a rare form of clarity and liberation. The world was filled with limitless possibilities. If the woman next to her had asked her name in that moment, Francine could have become anyone she wanted to become. How funny this thought was. If she were to answer, Bonnie or Betsy or Annaliese, the woman might say, A pleasure to meet you, Annaliese, before asking, Where are you from? Francine could say The moon, and the woman would reply, How nice. I visited the moon once. What’s the weather like there, this time of year?

Francine had no idea that traveling in an airplane would be so exhilarating. Her brain embraced the odd scenarios racing through her mind, delightfully amusing with more imagined encounters. She was unable to stop smiling as she closed her eyes, as the life she had left behind only a few hours before began playing out in her head like an old black and white movie. Suddenly, it stopped and when it did, the future burst open in a cascade of vivid colors. Suddenly, she had become Dorothy stepping into Munchkin Land.

The captain came on the loud speaker to announce they would be encountering turbulence. Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Francine opened her eyes, yawned, tightened her seatbelt, and stared out the aircraft window. Outside, the Earth below had disappeared into a dark starless night, taking with it her past and all of her youthful sins. She was going somewhere no one knew her and finally... finally, her slate was clean. She wanted very much to keep it that way.

As a child of eight or nine years, Francine noticed that adults fell oddly silent when she entered a room. How very interesting that they refused to elaborate on something just said, or quickly, found excuses to shoo her from the room. If given the opportunity to stay, they knew the child would ask too many questions, even though Grandmother had told Francine - when done correctly, questions were considered polite conversation. This made the young Francine very keen on gathering evidence by asking direct questions, but taught her that many questions were considered too many. What was the proper number? Grandmother was quick to clarify what she really meant by a question.

What do you think of this weather we’ve been having? was OK.

Why do you hide our silverware in your purse? was not.

Silence became the benchmark by which Francine would learn when visitors had reached question overload. Eyes would roll. Heads would turn. People would ask, Isn’t it her bedtime? Her Grandmother had also told her, when a person wasn’t getting the right answers, chances were very good that she wasn’t asking the right questions. Based upon that advice, Francine perfected her style of questioning, dogging answers like a bloodhound dogs escaping prisoners, or in this case, disgruntled dinner guests. She possessed an intensity that, when coupled with her unique style of interrogations, could put anyone off his feed for a day. There were days, when guests left before dessert was served.

Her brothers and sisters told her that embarrassing supper guests had stopped being cute a long time ago and she should stop. Somehow, she couldn’t. Alice told her. Charlene told her. Carol told her. Angus, Devon, and Wilton told her. Elliott just laughed. He thought she was a very funny girl, but then, of course, Elliott was only seven years older and he thought many childish things were still funny. The adults? No.

Disappointingly, keeping people ill at ease only produced stranger-still reactions to her un-childlike curiosity. Too young to see a correlation between visitors’ reactions and her unexpected questions, she concluded that awkward silence confirmed her suspicions. What weren’t they saying? An innocent person would have no trouble answering her questions directly. Surely, in their discomfort and reluctance lay the truth, that they were hiding something. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Their eyes blinked.

She loved a good mystery as it reduced the boredom of an otherwise bucolic country life. She particularly loved listening to the radio, broadcasting a full hour of mystery on Saturday evenings. It inspired her to look for new people to investigate. She especially enjoyed a nervous type of visitor to the farm. Standing behind her Mother or Father, she could make this sort of individual sweat just by staring at them. If he had no secrets to reveal upon arrival, by the time he departed, some would be invented - if only to get her to stop the questions and the silent stares.

What do you think? I robbed a bank and hid the money under the back porch? OK. There! Are you happy?

Uncle Angus would turn to Father, What is that girl’s problem?

Father most times answered, We’re not sure. Mother thinks it started with the measles.

Francine’s bad case of the measles was not to blame for the way her mind worked. It had begun much earlier than last year. She had been born with a unique and inquisitive nature, much in the same manner that Alice had been born with an imprint of her twin Angus’ big toe on her forehead. Like Alice, Francine had not asked to be born this way. Yet, there it was as plain as day, smack dab in the middle of everything she did. The DNA imprint of a natural-born sleuth, deeply imbedded in Francine’s brain, was simply not as noticeable as the dent in sister Alice’s forehead.

No one was safe from Francine’s interrogations, not even those casual visitors outside the boundaries of hearth and home. The mail carrier proved especially skittish, but there was a reason for his behavior. Grandmother scolded Francine every time she did it because the man suffered shell-shock from his time in the military. Hiding behind porch posts and trees, jumping out to scare the man, had nearly put him into an early grave. 

Leave the poor man alone child! He has had to endure the war. Wasn’t that enough of a burden? Do you want him to stop delivering our mail? 

A child, who knew nothing of war, but had seen the effects of her single-minded style of questioning, proved unnerving to everyone in town - even those of whom she had suspected nothing. Astonishingly, unanticipated confessions provided the only reprieve for those caught in her line of fire. Most had grown tired of Father’s lame excuse for his youngest daughter’s behavior, no longer accepting that Francine was suffering the unfortunate side effects of a childhood disease. The girl had been far too annoying from birth for that to be true.

Yes. I pretended to put something in the collection plate at church! Are you happy now?

Stop staring at me!

Please don’t tell the Minister. 

Don’t you have something better to do?

In truth, Francine did not. School was boring. Life in a small town was boring. Scaring the truth out of grownups was so much more fun.

Go finish your homework, Francine. Or find something useful to do with your time... like find your sister’s charm bracelet or your brother’s baseball mitt.

Oh, yes, she had secrets of her own, but regretfully made of such meager meat that they held no real interest for her. Hiding small treasures in the woods to be dug up later by her brothers was only a distracting